


roulette

by phosphorous



Series: Haikyuu One-shot Collection | Multiple Universes [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Gen, M/M, Mentions of blood and gore, Pre-Relationship, mentions of Nekoma ensemble, platonic!Iwaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21924007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phosphorous/pseuds/phosphorous
Summary: “I’m getting out of here, Tetsu-chan,” Tooru repeats. It should be a day or two, knowing Makki and Yahaba’s meticulous planning. “And I'm taking you with me.”or: the spy/secret agent AU where Kuroo isn't as dead as the law declares him to be, and Oikawa has never known what it means to leave someone behind.
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Oikawa Tooru
Series: Haikyuu One-shot Collection | Multiple Universes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1579000
Comments: 6
Kudos: 52





	roulette

Legally, Kuroo Tetsurou has been dead for two months. 

According to the report filed by his second-in-command after the incident, he’d been in the burning building when it collapsed on itself. Out of the seven members of his squad, he’d been the only one who hadn’t made it out alive. He’d broken a window to make sure Shibayama got out, made sure to promise Haiba to call for backup as soon as he got reception, taken a bullet for Kai without as much as a moment of hesitation and accounted for everyone’s safety before he’d taken a moment to survey his surroundings. The last message from his intercom had been, “Guys. I think I’m stuck here. It’s getting really hard to breathe. I don’t think I’ll make it out, but don’t you dare come in to help me. I’ll figure something out.”

He’d laughed at the end, but it wasn’t his usual, _I’m better than you and I know it_ laugh. It was tinged with pain, like the smoke was overfilling his lungs and he was scared. The building collapsed within minutes. Haiba had held Yaku back by the arm, effectively stopping him from bolting straight into the wreckage to look for _something_ , anything that would prove that Kuroo was alive, because _surely_ the bastard wouldn’t abandon him with the rest of the snot-nosed brats on their squad. It was the first time any of them had heard Kenma scream. 

The body was never accounted for. His agency’s stupidity, really, because even if he was declared KIA, there’s no proof that the bastard had actually died.

Which brings Tooru where he is now, two months since the building collapse. Kuroo looks like shit, covered in dust and cuts and _blood_ , and one of his eyes are swollen shut. His arms are bound behind his back, and when he shifts to properly lock eyes with Tooru, there are a series of stitches running around his neck, like someone had cleanly chopped his head off and attempted to put him together in a cheap imitation of surgery.

“Tetsu-chan,” Tooru says, for the lack of anything better to say. Until five minutes ago, he’d thought that the guy was _dead_ , so he’s not sure how to proceed with greeting him. “I should have known that a collapsing building wouldn’t have taken you out.”

Kuroo tilts his head. A droplet of blood, coming somewhere from his head, drips over his cheek and under his chin, brushing too close to the corner of his mouth. 

“It really _is_ you.” He mumbles, after a long pause. When the shadows shift, Tooru catches a glimpse of his open eye, and it’s so emotionless that he has to repress the shudder that goes through his spine at the sight. There’s a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. “I’ve never been so fucking _glad_ to see you in my life, you bastard.”

“I honestly couldn’t tell.” Tooru says, and his eyes flicker from Kuroo to the rest of the cell. Multiple torture instruments are lined up against the wall. There are skeletons propped up on chairs. A splatter of blood on the wall that looks far too fresh for Tooru’s liking. “They’ve been keeping you busy, haven’t they, Tetsu-chan?”

He expects a non-committal reply. Something like, _you can say that again,_ or _they wish I was entertaining them,_ or _yeah, damn right I am._

He doesn’t expect Kuroo to shift his head until his head is hanging off the back of the chair, his eyes shut as he goes limp, doesn’t expect him to say, “I’m just waiting to die, honestly,” with the mute resignation of someone who may as well be tightening a noose around his own neck.

The night Iwa-chan had gotten poisoned after inhaling a lungful of poison, Tooru hadn’t known anyone else to call except for Kuroo. He hated thinking about this time, mostly because Iwa-chan was turning blue and shaking and _dying_ slowly, and Tooru had manifested all the stress from that situation by sobbing his eyes out and threatening Iwa-chan with death if he died on him. Kuroo, once all the symptoms had been babbled off, had told Tooru to _shut the fuck up and stop crying, do as I say if you want Iwaizumi-san to live_.

“That’s a damn shame, then.” Tooru says. He keeps thinking of how he’d felt like the world was lifted off his shoulders when Iwa-chan had started breathing after he’d done exactly what Kuroo had told him to do, and wonders if Kuroo would feel the same way if Tooru returned the favor for him. He watches Kuroo shift again, and the glassy, emotionless eye is on him again. “I’m getting out of here.”

Kuroo blinks, and then tilts his head towards the empty chairs and the bloodstains on the wall. “That,” he starts, and his voice has an edge to it, like he’s trying to say _don’t promise me something if you aren’t going to give it to me, don’t give me false hope_ , “is precisely what all of them said.”

“I’m getting out of here, Tetsu-chan,” Tooru repeats. It should be a day or two, knowing Makki and Yahaba’s meticulous planning. “And I'm taking you with me.”

Neither of them talk after that. Very carefully, Tooru doesn’t comment on the sloppy job Kuroo has done on the chains to make it look like they’re still on him, when in reality, he’s seemingly found ten different ways to strip them off his wrists.


End file.
